It's not About the Taste
by lillpon
Summary: Set in Season 1. It's the first time Emma cooks for Mary Margaret, and she fears it didn't go well.


Emma huffed in frustration and let her fork fall on her plate. It was far from the worst thing she'd eaten or prepared, but still it was a disappointment to know that your efforts ended up in a pot full of bland meatballs.

It was still edible, and full of proteins, she guessed. She wouldn't really care if it was just for herself, but surely Mary Margaret deserved something better than coming home hungry to… well, that.

Emma felt a wave of sadness hit her and let her forehead rest on her hands. Was she always gonna be a disappointment? Even to people who barely knew her?

She felt it was a stupid reason, but that didn't stop her stomach from clenching and making her lose her appetite. She might as well throw away the food and order something that was actually tasty.

"Hello!" Mary Margaret's light voice was heard from the entrance. "What's smelling so great?"

Emma swallowed hard and turned to look at her. "I made some meatballs, but they're not that good."

Mary Margaret shook her head. "My God, you cooked! I'm so hungry I could eat them raw."

Before Emma could build up the courage to stop her, Mary Margaret had taken a plate and served herself some food. She had started eating before she even sat next to Emma, the plate still in her hands.

"Mmm, they need salt," she muttered with a full mouth and stood up again to pick up the salt.

"Sorry," Emma said sheepishly. "I guess I should stay away from the kitchen."

"What are you talking about? They're perfectly cooked, they just needed a little seasoning." She kept talking between bites, seeming all too excited to eat. "It's actually pretty great," she added with a hum of pleasure.

"You probably only think so because you're starving."

Mary Margaret thought for a moment, then nodded. "True. But it's still decent. I mean, it's food, and it's edible, that's what's important, right?"

Emma's face was probably too downcast, for Mary Margaret's next words were, "Emma? What's wrong? Seriously, it's good and I appreciate that you cooked for me." She placed her hand softly on Emma's shoulder.

Emma shrugged, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to show in her eyes. "I don't know… I guess it's because it's the first time I'm actually cooking for someone. I… I just used to cook for myself, and most of the time I didn't care if it wasn't anything super gourmet…"

Mary Margaret's hand rubbed softly on Emma's shoulder, and Emma couldn't help smiling.

"Personally, I would just add some mustard. And some cinnamon, too." Mary Margaret said.

Emma wiped away the tear that fell anyway from her eye. "I just followed the simplest recipe I found online, but cinnamon? Really?" She smiled.

Mary Margaret nodded excitedly as she took a few more bites. "Trust me, it's very good with red sauce. I'll make some spaghetti bolognese next time, you'll see it's great. Don't you add any… 'weird' ingredients when you cook?"

Emma could only shrug, her throat too thick to allow her to speak. Few group homes had specially seasoned food, and each foster family she'd stayed at always cooked things differently. Let alone that no-one had ever bothered to teach her how to cook, and she could hardly admit that this was what hurt her the most.

"You know what? I think we need to have some cooking sessions. Just you starting the cooking and me adding the seasoning."

Emma looked at Mary Margaret with surprise. It was like the damn woman had read her thoughts, and if Emma judged by the way she turned back to her food and stayed focused on it, she would say that Mary Margaret had no idea how much her words struck her. Emma knew how to cook, Mary Margaret knew that already… but she wanted to spend time with her, teaching her things no foster parent had cared to pass on to her.

"I'm a horrible student sometimes," Emma said softly, still not trusting her voice.

Mary Margaret smiled and huffed a laugh. "That's because you've never been _my_ student."

It shouldn't make Emma feel so happy. Making bland meatballs wasn't supposed to make her feel sad, even. Why was she so freaking emotional over food? Why was she so happy over the prospect of cooking with Mary Margaret?

Mary Margaret sat back in her chair and sighed in contentment. "Thank you for cooking today," she said as she rubbed her arm softly.

"You're welcome. I hope I'll be better next time."

Emma realized she didn't care to cook tastier food at all. The idea of cooking for someone else though, the want to make it tasty for Mary Margaret made her heart swell. Even if Mary Margaret seemed to be content with the most tasteless dishes anyone could ever taste, Emma felt the want to make it better for her friend.

It scared her, but she welcomed the almost unfamiliar feeling nonetheless.


End file.
